Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception (22 page)

And when he’d awakened enough to listen, he could tell by her breathing that she slept soundly, as though she had no fears. Perhaps her feelings had not been as she’d claimed. Faced with their inevitable parting, it had not caused so much as a bad dream for her. And when the sun was fully up, she’d woken, washed and dressed him, and sent him out of her life with a hearty breakfast and a kiss upon the cheek.

Halfway through his shave, Hendricks came into the room and went to the little table, bringing a cup of tea and lemon and forcing it into his hand.

Much as he wanted it, he said, ‘Pour this out and bring me another. Just the tea. No sugar. No lemon.’ Perhaps some day, when he felt himself starting to forget her. But not today.

‘Very good, my lord.’

Hendricks returned shortly with the corrected cup, and drew up a chair and his little writing desk, and began reading the mail. And Adrian allowed the ordinariness of it soothe his mind, pretending that nothing had changed between them.

After dispensing with a tailor’s bill and an invitation to a ball that Adrian had set aside as a possible peace offering to Emily, Hendricks said, ‘The next is from your cousin Rupert.’

Adrian took a sip from his cup. ‘Must we?’

‘Hmm.’ There was a pause as Hendricks scanned the letter. ‘If you will trust my opinion, my lord? No. It is more of the same, really. He saw you yesterday?’

‘At White’s,’ Adrian affirmed.

‘He wishes to see you again.’

‘How unfortunate for him.’

‘There is the matter of your wife …’

‘My response is the same as always,’ Adrian snapped. ‘Throw it on the fire.’

‘Very good, my lord.’

And for the first time, Adrian wondered how much of his mail was read properly, and how much Hendricks had chosen to censor. For there was a chance that each letter he had received from Rupert had been full of warnings that his secretary had not seen fit to convey. ‘Hendricks.’

‘My lord?’

Adrian reached into the pocket in his coat, and held out the locket containing the miniature. ‘Describe this to me.’

‘It is Lady Folbroke, my Lord,’ said the man, puzzled.

‘But what does it look like?’

‘It is done on ivory. In the painting, she is younger. Sixteen, perhaps. Her hair is longer and darker than it is now. Her face not so full.’

‘And the quality of the work?’

‘It does not do her justice, my lord.’

‘I see.’ And he had been displaying the ruined picture to the man for who knew how long, with no mention of it, with no clue that things were not as he thought they were.

‘I mean to write to her, today.’

‘Will you be needing my help, my lord?’

‘No. This is something I must do for myself.’
Then I shall hope that you are not so far gone in love for her that you do not deliver the letter. For I know we are rivals for her affection, even if you do not admit it.

There was a rattle as Hendricks opened the desk drawer and got out the little frame that Adrian sometimes used to help him in his rare correspondence, with the notches to space the letters and the little bar on the paper so he could write a straight line. He arranged the pen and ink, explaining the location of each item as he placed them. Then he stood back to allow Adrian the seat.

‘A few minutes’ privacy, please, Mr Hendricks.’ God knew, the composing of the thing would be hard enough without having to concern himself with other eyes than his catching sight of the letter.

‘Very good, my lord.’

When he was sure that the valet and secretary had left him alone in the room, he put pen to ink, and hoped for the best.

Dear Emily,

Now he was lost as to what he must say next. He got the little miniature back out of his pocket, rubbed his finger across the face of it again and set it next to the letter. It did not matter what was truly there. For a little while longer, he must believe in what he wanted to see.

Almost without thinking, he picked it up and touched it again. It had been years since he’d seen Emily. And now that she was lost to him, he regretted not having looked at her more when he’d had the chance.

He dipped his pen again.

No, that would not do. She would look at the line and think that if her welfare concerned him, he should have come and seen for himself long before now. Hendricks had said she’d thrown the last letter into the fire, just as he had the note from Rupert.

But he could not very well lead with a demand that she reveal the identity of her lover. Or a description of the events that had made his contacting her necessary. There had to be some preamble, some words that she would want to hear that would make her read more than a line or two.

And so he wrote the words that he knew she most deserved to hear.

I am sorry. Sorry for so many things that I hardly know where to start. But you have felt the sting of my neglect, and could give me a beginning, if I asked. Was it worse that I abandoned you? Or that I married you at all in the slipshod, neglectful way that I did, never asking
your opinion in the matter, or taking the time to know your mind on the subject? I am sure that rumours of my disgraceful behaviour in London have reached you. Too many of those rumours are true. And I am sorry for the shame that they might have caused you.

And for burdening you with the responsibility of my property and all that it entails, I am equally sorry. If it gave you pleasure, then I am glad of it. But if it caused you pain or worry to take on the part of a man while receiving none of the privileges, then I am sorry for that as well.

He paused to wet his pen again. How could he tell her the rest?

I wish to assure you that none of what has happened between us is any fault of yours. In many ways, you are a better wife than I deserved.

All perfectly true, if a trifle understated. The fault lies with me.

I am blind.

Say it, he commanded himself, as though he could order his hand to move and write the words.
Just say it. No dancing about.

There are certain impediments to our marriage.

No, that was not right. It sounded as if he had another wife.

Problems.

And that was too small. She was well aware that there were problems, unless she was as blind as he.

And that made him sound impotent. He cast another paper to the floor. He began again.

His pen hovered for a moment and added, ‘and love’, before signing his name. After the last week, it would be a lie to say that she had all his love. But she held the place closest to his heart.

And now, he began the other letter that he knew he must write. He scribbled the words hurriedly, not caring how they would look, just wishing to be done with it before he changed his mind, or said something he might regret. Then he blotted the ink, and fumbled for the wax and seal as he waited for it to cool. He addressed only one paper with a name and called for Hendricks, handing his secretary the two letters. ‘One to my lover. If you do not know by now how
to reach her, then wait for evening and send this back in the carriage I know she will send. And the other …’ he moved the second letter carefully to the side ‘… to Emily.’ He smiled. ‘And careful not to confuse the two. That would be rather embarrassing.’

From the silence from the man, and his rather abrupt movement in reaching for the papers, Adrian could feel the disapproval crackling in the air.

‘I know you think less of me because of my behaviour towards Emily, Hendricks.’

‘I have no opinion on the matter, my lord.’

‘Nonsense. If you weren’t so damned polite, you’d have told me so to my face, long before now.’

There was another telling silence, rather than the quick denial of an honest man.

‘If it is any consolation to you, there will be no more of this after today. I have chosen in a way that will do credit to my family and to myself.’

‘Very well, my lord.’ Hendricks was a good man. But he could not manage to sound pleased by this either, managing to say too much, in no words at all.

‘But while I have much to be ashamed of, and much to apologise for, I cannot feel guilty for what has happened. Although I have tried to do so, I simply cannot. The woman I have been with has loved me. Truly, and for myself. Not the title, but the man and all his flaws. It is not something I have experienced before. It was a wonderful thing, Hendricks.’

‘I would not know, sir.’

Adrian bit his tongue to hide his surprise. Was it possible that he had misunderstood the reason for the man’s hesitance when speaking of Emily? Or perhaps it was that she did not return his feelings for her. If so, there was hope for him, though it might come at the expense of his friend.

But then, who was the source of the rumours about her?

And here was another unexpected gift from his lover. The sudden ability to feel sorry for someone other than himself. ‘That is truly a pity, Hendricks. I hope, for your sake, that your circumstances change. Love, whether given or received, is transformative, in and of itself.’

And then he sat back in the desk, knowing that there was little for him to do but wait.

E
mily sipped her morning chocolate, stretching luxuriously under the silk wrapper she wore. Lord, but she was stiff. And it made her blush to think of the reason for those sore muscles. Her darling Adrian had loved her quite enthusiastically.

And he had loved his wife as well. Her heart had ached afterwards almost as much as her body did now, to see him curled against her, broken by his betrayal of both the women he imagined were a part of his life. And she had wanted to reveal herself to him, to ease his suffering.

But a small part of her had cautioned her to stay silent. And as she thought about it, that bit had grown, reminding her that he was not the only one to suffer for his actions. Her misery had lasted for nearly the whole time she had known him. And his could last a day more. At least until his repentance bore fruit,
and he made some kind of overture to the woman he had promised before God to cherish.

There was a knock at the door, and her maid informed her that Mr Hendricks was waiting in the sitting room with news for her. Emily gave a quick glance in the mirror to be sure that the robe she wore was decent enough to receive company, tightened the belt under her breasts and went out to greet her husband’s secretary.

He held two sealed papers out to her and said, ‘He has written to you. In both your guises. I was instructed to be sure not to confuse the letters, to take the first one immediately to his wife, and that if I did not know the direction to you here, to send this with the coach that would come for him in the evening.’

‘I see.’ So whatever he had to say, he meant to speak first to his wife on the matter. Emily weighed the two pieces of paper in her hand, trying to guess the contents without opening them, and nodded absently to Hendricks, directing him to await her replies.

Did it really matter which she opened first? For if she had read the situation correctly, they would be two sides of the coin. She must trust, now that she had met the man, that the pair of them were not full of lies.

She cracked the seal on the one that bore no name, and read.

So he had taken the time to joke with her? The news must be bad, indeed.

Obviously. Her eyes rushed down the uneven lines on the page.

She smiled, thinking how nice it was that he would say so.